THE TOWELS WITH HER INITIALS

Weston had a half-sister.

That fact should not have shocked Vivienne after everything else, yet somehow it did. Adelaide Cross was eleven years older than Weston, born before Augustus married Weston’s mother. Augustus had quietly supported Adelaide and eventually brought her into Hawthorne Capital, but never publicly acknowledged her because his own father threatened to disinherit him. By the time Augustus controlled the family himself, Adelaide no longer wanted the name. “Weston knew?” Vivienne asked. Margaret nodded. “Since his twenties.” “Nell?” “Always.” Vivienne closed her eyes. Another entire layer of family history had been hidden behind polished holiday photographs.

Adelaide had served as Hawthorne Capital CFO for fifteen years before abruptly resigning after Augustus’s death. According to Margaret, she and Weston despised each other. “Why?” “Because Augustus trusted her with money.” “More than Weston?” “Much more.”

Police located Adelaide that evening at a Savannah hospital. The blood in the Tybee cottage belonged to Weston. Adelaide told investigators he arrived asking for help decoding Augustus’s archive. They argued. Weston accused her of trying to steal his inheritance. He grabbed her. She pushed him. He fell against a broken glass and cut his hand. Then he left.

Where?

Adelaide did not know.

But she knew what he took from the vault.

A ledger.

The ledger documented more than Weston’s early misconduct. It contained evidence that Hawthorne Capital had shifted losses into charitable entities during the 2008 financial crisis. Augustus later reversed most transactions and repaid the foundation, but one unresolved account remained: Blue Heron.

“Why would Weston want it?” Vivienne asked Adelaide during a monitored interview the next morning.

Adelaide looked like a harder version of Weston: sharp cheekbones, gray eyes, dark auburn hair streaked with silver. “Because the ledger proves he didn’t create Blue Heron.”

Vivienne frowned. “Who did?”

“I did.”

Silence.

Adelaide explained Blue Heron began as a legitimate holding company used to isolate failing commercial investments from Hawthorne Capital. Augustus ordered it dissolved after losses were recovered. Weston secretly reactivated it years later.

“But the Cayman account?” Thomas asked.

“Not mine.”

“Who?”

Adelaide looked toward Vivienne.

“Weston’s.”

“So the ledger could implicate him.”

“Yes.”

“Then why steal it rather than destroy it?”

Adelaide smiled without humor.

“Because Weston never destroys leverage. He trades it.”

Vivienne thought of the missing two million.

“Who would buy it?”

“Someone afraid of what else is in the ledger.”

“Who?”

Adelaide hesitated.

“Three current board members.”

The corruption was broader than Weston.

Raymond Pierce was not among them. Nell wasn’t. But treasurer Charles Monroe, investment chair Peter Lang, and hospital liaison Frederick Sloan had participated in transactions years earlier. They had no idea Augustus kept records.

“Weston could blackmail them.”

“He already has.”

That explained how Weston expected to become chairman despite questionable spending. Votes had been secured through leverage.

Then Vivienne asked the question that mattered most.

“Where would he go?”

Adelaide looked at her carefully. “Back to Charleston.”

“Why?”

“Because the one person he still believes he can control is there.”

Claire.

Thomas immediately contacted her attorney.

No answer.

Again.

Nothing.

Marisol called Claire directly.

Phone off.

Within twenty minutes, police arrived at Claire’s apartment.

Empty.

A neighbor reported seeing her leave voluntarily with a dark-haired man wearing a cap.

Weston.

Vivienne felt a flash of anger. “She went with him?”

Adelaide shook her head. “Don’t assume.”

The apartment showed no struggle.

But on Claire’s kitchen counter sat a handwritten note.

V—

He says he can prove the money wasn’t his idea. I’m meeting him somewhere public. If I don’t call in one hour, tell police. C.

Timestamp from her building camera showed she left ninety-three minutes earlier.

Claire had learned something, at least.

Police tracked Weston’s burner phone near the Charleston harbor.

The trail led to an abandoned yacht club property owned by Blue Heron.

By the time officers arrived, both Weston and Claire were gone.

But investigators found Claire’s phone smashed on the dock.

And blood.

Not enough to suggest fatal injury.

Enough to terrify everyone.

Vivienne stood inside Thomas’s office when Detective Fletcher told her.

“Do you think Weston hurt her?”

“We don’t know.”

Vivienne hated that her first emotional reaction was concern for the woman who slept with her husband. But Claire had become a witness, perhaps a victim, and Vivienne refused to become the kind of person who needed Claire to suffer in order to feel vindicated.

Then a call came from an unknown number.

Vivienne answered.

“Hello?”

Claire whispered, “Don’t say my name.”

Vivienne stood.

“Where are you?”

“I’m okay.”

“Where is Weston?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“He took me to the yacht club. He wanted the account records I kept.”

“Did you give them to him?”

“No.”

“Did he hurt you?”

A pause.

“He grabbed me. I cut my hand getting away.”

Relief.

“Where are you now?”

“Safe.”

“Call police.”

“I did.”

“Why call me?”

Claire’s breathing was shaky.

“Because Weston said something.”

“What?”

“He said none of this mattered because tomorrow you would lose Hart Design anyway.”

Vivienne’s blood ran cold.

“How?”

“He said your board is voting.”

Vivienne looked at Marisol.

Hart Design had no scheduled board vote.

“Voting on what?”

Claire answered.

“Removing you.”

Vivienne felt the room tilt.

“Who told him?”

“Peter Lang.”

Peter was not merely a Hawthorne Foundation director.

He was also one of Hart Design’s minority investors.

Vivienne finally saw the structure.

Weston had used Blue Heron to accumulate shares.

Peter Lang had influence with remaining shareholders.

If enough investors claimed Vivienne’s public scandal created fiduciary risk, they could attempt emergency removal.

“Claire, stay with police.”

“I will.”

Vivienne hung up.

Marisol already had Hart Design’s shareholder agreement open.

“How many votes do they need?”

“Sixty-seven percent.”

“We control fifty-one.”

“Your personal shares do.”

Vivienne nodded.

Then Marisol’s face changed.

“What?”

“Unless Weston filed a marital ownership claim.”

Vivienne stared.

“Can he?”

Thomas answered.

“He can try to argue a portion of your shares appreciated during marriage and therefore constitute marital property subject to temporary restriction.”

“He can’t vote them.”

“Normally no.”

“Normally?”

“If a judge issued emergency preservation orders based on allegations of financial misconduct.”

Vivienne almost laughed.

“What misconduct?”

Marisol’s phone rang.

She answered.

Then went pale.

“Vivienne.”

“What?”

“Hart Design’s bank just received notice of a federal inquiry.”